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- [00:01]
Carter Roy
Hi listeners, it's Carter Roy. Before we get into today's episode of Murder True Crime Stories, I want to tell you about another show I think you'll love, Hidden History with Dr. Harini Bhatt. Every Monday, Dr. Bhatt goes where history gets mysterious. Vanished civilizations, doomsday prophecies, paranormal phenomena, and events that science still can't fully explain. Dr. Bot treats these moments like open case files. Not myths, not superstition, just incomplete explanations waiting for a closer look. Hidden History drops every Monday. Follow now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen, so you never miss a mystery. This is crime house house.
- [01:03]
Katie Ring
There's lots of different kinds of cycling. They're all tough. But gravel racing can be especially brutal. We're talking unpaved roads through farmland and forests, over mountain passes and creek beds, in conditions that can flip from scorching heat to freezing rain in a matter of hours. Races stretch anywhere from 100 to 300 miles. There's no support crew, no pit stops. If your tire blows out 20 miles from the nearest gas station, you deal with it yourself or you're done. The people who gravel race at the highest level are a tight knit group. They travel the country together, compete against each other week after week, and crash on each other's couches. Between events, friendships and rivalries form fast and romance can bloom just as easily. Lines blur, boundaries get messy, and in a community that small, there's nowhere to hide when things go wrong. Anna Mariah Wilson, or as her friends knew her mo, knew this firsthand. By the spring of 2022, the 25 year old, fully sponsored and tearing through the competition like nobody the sport had ever seen. Journalists were calling her the future of American gravel racing. That season was shaping up to be her best ever. But in May, Mo traveled to Austin, Texas, for a race. She got there a few days early to train and reconnect with friends in the cycling community. And on a warm Wednesday evening, after a swim and dinner with a fellow cyclist, she went back to the apartment where she was staying. By the time her friend came home that night, Mo's dream season was over forever.
- [02:45]
Carter Roy
People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end, but you don't always know which part you're on. Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending. Hi, I'm Carter Roy and this is True Crime Stories, a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. And for the next two episodes, I'll be joined by Katie Ring, host of America's Most Infamous Crimes.
- [03:14]
Katie Ring
Thanks so much for having me, Carter. Can't wait to dive into this case with you.
- [03:18]
Carter Roy
Oh my God. Same here. This one blew my mind. And for everyone listening, if you're not following America's Most Infamous Crimes, make sure to do it now. Each week, Katie goes deep on one of the most notorious true crime cases in American history. Topics like the Idaho college murders and the murder of Nicole Simpson. And Katie's not doing the quick recap version. She's telling the full story across multiple episodes every Tuesday through Thursday. The audio version is on all your favorite podcast platforms and you can subscribe to the America's Most Infamous Crimes channel on YouTube for full video. Katie will introduce the next two episodes, then come back at the end of part two for an extended conversation about the case.
- [04:07]
Katie Ring
Thanks, Carter. This is the first of two episodes on the murder of 25 year old Anna Mariah, or Mo Wilson. She was a rising star in one of the toughest endurance sports in the country when her life was cut short in Austin, Texas. The investigation that followed captivated the true crime world and shook the cycling community to its core. Today, Carter will introduce you to Mo, a fearless athlete who turned a devastating injury into a second act. He'll walk you through a complicated romantic situation she got caught up in and take you through the night of May 11, 2022, when everything changed. As investigators started pulling at threads, one person's name kept surfacing and what they found was deeply unsettling. Next time, Carter will go deeper into the suspect and the web of evidence that closed in around them. He'll detail a botched arrest, national manhunt that stretched from Texas to Central America, and the explosive trial that brought it all to a close. All that and more coming up.
- [05:16]
Carter Roy
On this show. We're always digging for the truth, yet modern healthcare remains one of the greatest mysteries of all. Everyone deserves real medical support. And that's why I want to talk about Mochi Health. Mochi is a nationwide platform that's bringing humanity and transparency back to healthcare by treating your unique biology. Not a fad. They've already helped 400,000 members lose over £5 million. And while they lead the way in weight loss, Mochi is now a full scale Marketplace for over 120 treatments ranging from hair and skin care to longevity, mental health and specialized men's and women's health. After you complete an eligibility form, you'll receive a telehealth evaluation with a partnered provider on Mochi's platform to build a plan personalized for your specific body and goals. You'll have 247 access to your provider and specialized medications from a network of licensed pharmacies delivered right to your door. No waiting rooms or hidden fees. You just pay for your membership and your medication. It's personalized care that actually treats you like a human being. Stop leaving your health up to an algorithm. Go to joinmochi.com if you're an experienced
- [06:30]
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- [07:06]
Carter Roy
Anna Mariah Wilson, who everyone knew as Mo, was born on May 18, 1996, in Littleton, New Hampshire. She grew up just across the state line in Kirby, Vermont, a tiny town where the hills roll into forest and winter sticks around for about half the year. Mo was curious and energetic from the jump. She was the kind of kid who wanted to understand how things worked. She loved math and science, loved pulling things apart and figuring out what made them tick. But she wasn't just smart. She was deeply social, too. Friends remember her as the person who always made sure everyone felt included, always wanted everyone around her to have a good time. She just had this way of making people feel seen. She also had a competitive streak a mile wide, and in the Wilson household there was no shortage of outlets for that. Her father, Eric Wilson, was a champion skier and a coach. Her aunt competed in the Olympics twice as a skier. Athletics ran deep in the family, and it wasn't just about talent. It was about discipline, about showing up every day and pushing past the point where most people would quit. Mo absorbed all of that growing up. If there was snow on the ground, she was skiing. If there wasn't, she was on her bike, riding the back roads and gravel trails around Kirby with her brother, Matt. They'd head out into the Vermont hills after breakfast and ride until dinner. That rhythm, always moving, always outside, always pushing, shaped everything about who Mo became. At first, Mo followed in her dad and aunt's footsteps and focused on skiing. By her early teens, she'd earned a spot At Burke Mountain Academy, a boarding school in Vermont built specifically to train elite ski racers. And Mo fit right. In her junior year, she ranked third nationally for her age group. The Olympics weren't some far off fantasy anymore. They were starting to look like a real plan. Then she tore her acl. An ACL tear is brutal for any athlete. For a competitive downhill skier whose career depends on split second balance and trusting your body at high speed, it can be career ending. Recovery takes months. The mental part, the fear of it happening again, can take even longer. But Mo ground through it. She rehabbed with the same intensity she brought to everything else. And it wasn't long before she was back on the mountain. She had another big milestone around this time, too. She'd been accepted to Dartmouth College. Naturally, she joined the alpine ski team there. When it came to her academics, Mo chose to major in engineering, which fit her perfectly. That same analytical mind that loved tearing apart problems in a classroom carried right over to how she trained and raced. She studied her routes, tracked her data, and broke down every variable she could find. She was always looking for a better way to do something, always trying to understand not just what worked, but why it worked. The Olympic dream was alive again. For a while, everything was right on track. And then she tore the same ACL a second time. Two tears in the same knee. That was it. The path she'd been building toward her whole life shut down in front of her. Most people in her position would grieve their dream, then find something else. But Mo wasn't wired that way. She always believed setbacks weren't endings, they were redirections. And during both rounds of rehab, she'd been riding bikes to stay active while her knee healed. At first, it was just practical. Cycling was low impact, kept her fit, and didn't put pressure on the knee. But it also gave her that same feeling skiing did. The endurance, the solitude, the sense of covering huge distances under her own power. She'd loved bikes, and she was a kid, bombing around Kirby with her brother. Now they'd become something bigger than a recovery tool. They became the new dream. Mo found her way to gravel racing, a newer, rougher discipline that was blowing up in the cycling world. And unlike the controlled environment of Alpine skiing, gravel was a different animal entirely. There was no groomed course, no consistent conditions. You might start a race in dry heat and finish it in a downpour. You might hit a stretch of road so chewed up with rocks and ruts that your hands go numb from the vibration. Gravel rewarded the ability to suffer, to adapt on the fly and to keep going when your body and your equipment were both begging you to stop. Mo threw herself into it, and she was really good. She won races early and often, surprising people who'd been competing for years. She had the engine of an endurance athlete and the tactical mind of an engineer. Where other riders just gutted it out, Mo planned her way through courses, managed her energy, and knew exactly when to push and when to hold back. By 2022, Mo was 25 and ranked among the top gravel racers in the United States. She had this combination of physical power and quiet determination that made her nearly impossible to beat. When she was locked in podium finish after podium finish, she was climbing the ranks faster than anyone in the sport had seen in years. Journalists covering gravel racing said she was poised to become the best in the country, maybe the best in the world. And the people inside the community weren't surprised. They'd been watching her climb for a while. She was fully sponsored, and that summer she was scheduled to compete in the Migration gravel race in East Africa, one of the most coveted events on the international calendar. People who follow the sport believe 2022 was her year. Not just a breakout season, but a coronation. Even with all that success, Mo never lost sight of the people around her. Fellow racers described her as the kind of competitor who would genuinely celebrate a rival's win. Not the kind of sportsmanship you put on for cameras, the real thing. But the people who actually knew Mo, the ones who spent time with her off the bike, always said the same thing. The racing was only part of who she was, and honestly, it might not have even been the most important part. Off the bike, Mo was warm, generous, and genuinely interested in the people around her. She remembered the small things she asked about. People's families, their injuries, their bad days. She showed up for people, not just at races, but in the quieter moments in between, when someone actually needed a friend, she called her mom. During long weeks on the road, she went on trail rides with her brother. Whenever she was back in Vermont, she stayed up late with friends after exhausting race weekends. Wherever she went, from San Francisco, where she was based, to Austin to her hometown in Vermont, she built real relationships and held onto them in voice memos recovered later. Moe once said, quote, I want to be the kind of person that picks other people up when they fall down, who's there for people when they need support, encouragement, and insight. I want to be the type of person that people can't help but smile when they're around. She wasn't describing who she hoped to become. She was describing who she already was and and in May of 2022, all of those relationships pulled Mo to Austin. She was heading down for a race called the Gravel Locos, but she also wanted to stay with a friend named Caitlyn Cash, get some training rides in, and catch up with people she knew in the cycling community there. One of those people was a fellow gravel racer named Colin Strickland. Colin was a big name in the Austin cycling scene. He and Mo had history, the kind that had never been fully defined or resolved. She wanted to see him. She wanted to finally figure out where they stood. That desire for clarity would lead her to a swimming, a dinner, and a set of stairs she would climb for the last time.
- [17:15]
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- [17:47]
Carter Roy
Colin Strickland was one of the original stars of American gravel racing. He'd helped put the sport on the map before it blew up into what it is today. He was charismatic, well connected, and based out of Austin, which had become a real hub for the cycling world. By 2021, he was winding down his competitive career, but his name still carried serious weight. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. Ian Mo first crossed paths at a race called Rebecca's Private Idaho in September of 2021, when he was 34 and she was 25. Mo had just dominated the course, turning in one of the most impressive performances anyone had seen. And Colin took notice. He invited her for a beer. Afterward, they talked for a while about the race, about her career, about where the sport was headed at the time. Colin had a girlfriend. They'd been together a couple of years and had broken up and gotten back together more times than anyone could keep track of. Colin later said his first conversation with Mo was purely friendly. He told her she was going to win tons of events. He talked about helping her land sponsors and navigating the business side of things. He said he just wanted to be helpful, but he also admitted he was attracted to her. By October, Colin and his girlfriend had split up again. He ended it on the drive home From a race in Bentonville, Arkansas. So when Mo flew to Austin a few weeks later, it seemed like the timing was right. Colin invited her out, introduced her to friends, and showed her around town. During that trip, they became intimate for the first time. But things got confusing for Mo almost right away. Her voice memos from this period are painfully honest. In one, she said, quote, I think I like him more than I'd like to admit. But she worried he didn't feel the same way. In another, she said, I want to know his cards first before playing my own. I'm terrified of expressing feelings and being rejected. Mo was 25. She could grind through 200 miles of brutal terrain without flinching. But figuring out whether the guy she liked actually liked her back, that part terrified her. And honestly, most of us know exactly what that feels like. But Mo never got the chance to figure it out. Before they ever defined what they were to each other, Colin pulled back. He put her in the friend zone. He got back together with his girlfriend. And while he kept texting Mo, he hid her in his phone under a fake name, Christine Wall. Mo was left trying to read between the lines of every text, every silence, every interaction. In one voice memo, she described getting to a race in Bentonville, hearing nothing from Colin ahead of time, and then running into him that night at a bar with his girlfriend and a group of friends. He gave her a quick hug, barely said a word, and walked off. She was standing right there, watching him act like she didn't exist. That was the backdrop when Mo arrived in Austin in early May of 2022. She flew in several days ahead of the gravel Locos race, scheduled for Saturday, May 14. She was staying with her friend Caitlin Cash, who just went by Cash in the Cherrywood neighborhood on the east side of the city. Cash had gotten to know Mo's family through the cycling community in Vermont, and when she finally met Mo at a race in Bentonville, Arkansas, the previous fall, the two hit it off immediately. Cash had since moved back to Austin, but they'd stayed close. Mo crashed with her whenever she was in town. On the morning of May 11, Cash took a short video of Mo as she headed out the door for a training ride. Mo was laughing, looking exactly like someone doing what they loved and couldn't wait to do more of it. Cash sent the clip to Mo's mom, Karen. The text with it said, quote, your girl's here, safe with me. Mo had been training hard all week, putting in rides around Austin to acclimate to the Texas heat. Before the race, she was in top form, and she was looking forward to the Gravel Locos as a tuneup for an even bigger season ahead. That afternoon, Mo texted Cash a heads up. The message read, quote, just FYI, I'm going to go swim and eat dinner with Colin tonight. She'd also texted Colin directly that day. This message carried a very different weight. Quote, my mind has been going in circles and I don't know what to think. She wanted to see him that evening. She wanted an honest conversation. She wanted to know, finally, whether there was something real between them or whether she needed to let it go and move on. Colin's reply didn't match her energy at all. Want to go swimming? Maybe swimming in a beverage? It was classic Colin. Moe wanted to have a real conversation about their relationship, and he deflected with something light and casual. But Mo went anyway. Maybe she figured she could steer things toward a real talk once they were face to face. That afternoon, he picked her up on his motorcycle. They swam at Deep Eddy Pool, a swimming hole that's been a gathering spot in Austin for over 100 years. Afterward, they walked across the street and had dinner at a spot called Pool Burger. By all accounts, it was a relaxed, easy evening, two people sharing food and conversation on a warm Texas night. The kind of evening where nothing feels urgent and nothing seems wrong. Around 8:30pm Colin dropped Mo off at the base of the stairs leading up to Cash's apartment. Mo climbed the stairs and went inside. It was the last time anyone saw her alive. It was just before 10pm when Caitlin Cash came home from a night out to a quiet apartment. She called out for Mo, but there was no answer. She came around the corner and saw the bathroom door was ajar. Inside, her friend was lying on her back on the floor, unconscious and surrounded by blood. Cash grabbed her phone and called 911. The dispatcher walked her through chest compressions. Cash counted out loud, her voice shaking as the dispatcher told her to keep going, that help was on the way. When she reached 26, she heard officers at the door. First responders took over and led Cash outside. When she asked why they weren't rushing Mo to a hospital, an officer gave her the answer. Your friend didn't make it. Anna Mariah Wilson was pronounced dead at the scene. She was 25 years old, one week away from her 26th birthday. That video Cash had sent to Mo's mom, the one with Mo laughing and heading out for for a ride, had been filmed in that same apartment just that morning. The text with it had said, you Girl's here, safe with me now. Cash was standing on the sidewalk outside in the dark, being told her friend was dead. Detectives got to the apartment within minutes of the 911 call and started working the scene right away. A few things jumped out. The door hadn't been forced open, no windows broken. Whoever got inside either knew the building's entry code, which about 30 people shared or was let in. The apartment itself looked untouched, furniture in place, nothing ripped through or searched. This didn't look like a break in. On the bathroom floor, detectives found three shell casings, all 9 millimeter, but no weapon. The landlord, David Harris, lived in the unit right below. He said he'd been home and hadn't heard anything that sounded like gunshots. But he did hear footsteps, somebody running down the stairs fast. Then the clicking of bicycle spokes moving through the back alley. Whoever was leaving wasn't walking. They were in a hurry. That's when detectives noticed Mo's bicycle was gone from the apartment. For a professional cyclist, a race bike isn't just a piece of equipment. It's the centerpiece of everything. Mo's bike was her livelihood, her training partner, the thing she spent more hours with than just about anything else in her life. She'd flown to Austin with it. She'd been training on it all week. After a quick search, detectives found the bike about 60ft away from the apartment, tossed into the bushes out back. Not stolen, not carefully stashed somewhere, thrown, like it meant nothing to whoever had taken it. That detail hit investigators. Whoever grabbed the bike hadn't been interested in keeping it. They'd carried it out through the alley, past the building, and hurled it into the shrubbery. The whole thing felt personal. Not a theft, but a gesture, almost like an act of contempt. And it told them something important. Whatever happened in that bathroom had nothing to do with money. So if this wasn't a robbery, then what was it? Detectives worked through the night looking for an answer. And when one finally started to take shape, it was worse than anyone could have imagined.
- [28:50]
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- [29:20]
Carter Roy
Hey, sweetie. Your mother showed me this Carvana thing for selling the car. I'm gonna give it a try. Wish me luck. Me again. I put in the license plate. It gave me an offer. Unbelievable. Okay, I accepted the offer. They're picking it up Tuesday from the driveway. I haven't even left my chair. It's done. The car is gone. I'm holding a check anyway. Carvana, give it a whirl. Love ya.
- [29:42]
Katie Ring
So good you'll want to leave a voicemail about it.
- [29:45]
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- [29:52]
Carter Roy
after 25 year old Mo Wilson was found dead on May 11, 2010, 22. Investigators canvassed the cherrywood neighborhood in Austin, Texas. They searched through the night and into the next morning, knocking on doors and pulling footage from every camera they could find. Most of it was useless, but Detective Richard Spitler came across one that turned out to be critical. A neighbor had a doorbell camera that ran continuously. Not motion triggered, but recording all the time. It was pointed at the neighbor's own porch, so it didn't show any visual from Cash's building. But it picked up audio. Clear audio. And what Spitler heard on that recording was devastating. A scream. Two gunshots. Six seconds of silence. Then a third and final shot. Three shots matching the three casings on the bathroom floor. And the recording gave Spitler something else. A precise time of death. 9:15pm About 45 minutes after Colin dropped Mo off. 45 minutes before Cash walked through her front door. The medical exam confirmed how it happened. And this part is hard to hear. Mo was shot three times. The first hit the front of her head. The second caught the side, passing through her right index finger on the way. Like her hand had been up in front of her face, trying to shield herself. Investigators believe she was on the ground after those first two shots. Then came that six second pause. Six seconds doesn't sound like much, but in the middle of something like this, it's an eternity. Count it out. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three. Four. Five. Six. Then a final shot through her heart. Whoever did this stood over Mo after she'd already gone down and pulled the trigger one more time. That pause told investigators everything they needed to know about what kind of killing this was. It wasn't panic. It wasn't a reaction. It wasn't someone losing control. Someone looked down at Mo lying on the floor, waited. And made a deliberate, cold choice to end her life. While Spitler worked the audio, another neighbor's doorbell camera picked up something visual. This one covered the Front of Cash's building and in its frame. It caught a vehicle in the window between when Mo got back to the apartment and when Cash found her. A black Jeep Cherokee with a bike rack on top showed up on camera. It didn't just drive by once. It circled the block multiple times. It slowed down near the entrance of the building, sat there for a moment and moved on, then came back and circled again and again. This wasn't someone looking for parking or trying to find an address. This was someone watching the building, waiting for something. Not only that, but the Jeep disappeared from the frame shortly before cash called, called 911. Investigators ran the plates. The Jeep was registered to an address linked to Colin Strickland. Now, Cash had already told police that Mo barely knew anyone in Austin. Just her and one other friend. Colin. He was the last known person to have seen Mo alive. His name was already part of the picture. And now a vehicle registered to his address had been caught on camera, searching, circling the murder scene in the exact window when the killing took place. Police showed up at Collins house that next morning, May 12th. A black Jeep with a bicycle rack was sitting right there in the driveway. Colin spent six hours at the station that day. He was cooperative the whole time. He walked detectives through everything. The swim at Deep Eddy, dinner at Pool Burger, dropping Mo at the bottom of the stairs. He said he rode straight home on his motorcycle, never went inside the apartment and didn't see anyone around when he left. He answered every question they threw at him. He was consistent. He didn't trip over his own story. And there was something about how he carried himself that was hard to fake. At one point, detectives left him alone in the interrogation room for over an hour. A camera recorded him the whole time. He was slumped against the wall, arms wrapped around himself, staring at the floor. He wasn't looking around for cameras. He wasn't pacing or rehearsing. He looked like a man whose understanding of his own life had just come apart. When they came back and showed him the footage of the black Jeep circling Cassius Block, he watched it carefully and said, that's not my Jeep. It belongs to my girlfriend. Separate surveillance footage from Collins route home that night backed up everything he told them. He was on his motorcycle on the other side of Austin when the shots were fired. Colin Strickland did not kill Mo Wilson. But that Jeep belonged to someone. And when detectives asked Colin for a name, he gave them one. Kaitlin Armstrong, 34 years old. His live in girlfriend. The woman he'd broken up with and gotten Back together with over and over again, the woman Colin had been hiding Mo from. Detectives pressed Colin on whether Kaitlin could have done something like this. He went quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his words came out broken. I know both of these people and I can't imagine it. He kept insisting it wasn't possible. He said he would never live with someone he thought was capable of something like that. He seemed genuinely shaken by the idea. But detectives weren't done with him yet. They had more questions, and the answers were about to make things a lot more interesting. They shifted gears and asked if he owned any firearms. Colin told them he'd bought a 9 millimeter pistol the previous fall, but said he'd never even fired it. He just bought it and put it away. That's the same caliber as the casings on the bathroom floor. And it turned out Colin wasn't the only one in the household with a nine millimeter. He told detectives he'd bought Caitlin a gun, too. Back in December 2021, he'd taken her to a gun shop in Austin where she picked out a Sig Sauer P365, a compact 9 millimeter built for concealed carry. Then she went to a range with her sister to practice. So now investigators had a name. They had a vehicle that matched the one circling the crime scene. And they had two 9 millimeter handguns in the same house. The same caliber found next to Moe's body. The circumstantial evidence was starting to pile up fast. But it was something else that really locked their focus on. The morning of May 12, while Colin was still at the station, a friend of his named Lance had stopped by the house to borrow a bike part. Kaitlin let him in. They talked briefly, and she mentioned Mo's death. Then she asked a question that stopped Lance cold. Is Cherrywood a bad neighborhood? Cherrywood? The neighborhood where Moe was killed. That detail hadn't been released publicly. It wasn't in any news report. Austin PD hadn't named the location. The only people who should have known Mo died in the Cherrywood neighborhood were law enforcement and whoever had been inside that building the night before. Lance didn't say anything in the moment, but after he left, the question sat with him. He kept turning it over. How did she know the neighborhood? He hadn't brought it up. The more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. Eventually, he called the police and told them what she'd said. The way Kaitlin framed the question was telling, too. Asking whether Cherrywood was a bad neighborhood seemed like an attempt to make the killing sound random, like it could have happened to anyone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in trying to distance herself from it, she'd done the opposite. So by the end of May 12, here's what investigators knew. A young woman had been shot dead in her friend's apartment. Colin Strickland's girlfriend's Jeep had been circling the crime scene. There were two 9 millimeter handguns in that household. And that same girlfriend had casually named the neighborhood where the murder happened a detail nobody outside the investigation should have known. And detectives were just getting started. There was much more to learn. And what they would eventually uncover about Caitlin Armstrong and her behavior in the weeks and months leading up to Mo's death would reshape the entire case. It would explain why Mo was targeted, how the killer knew where she'd be and what had been building behind the scenes long before that Wednesday night. But we're not there yet. Because even as detectives were putting these pieces together, Caitlin Armstrong was already making moves of her own. And she was about to prove that identifying a suspect and actually catching one are two very different things. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Thanks again to Katie Ring for joining me. She'll be back next time for part two on the murder of Mariah Wilson and all the people it affected. And make sure to like and subscribe to America's Most infamous crimes on YouTube or follow the audio podcast.
- [41:23]
Katie Ring
Thanks for having me Carter. I'm looking forward to getting more into the story. Next episode Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank the each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, rimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference and to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get every episode ad free. We'll be back on Thursday.
- [41:58]
Carter Roy
Murder True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy and is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Natalie Pertzofsky, Alyssa Fox, Cassidy Dillon and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening.
- [42:28]
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